CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Riley — 18 years old
I wasn’t expecting his lips to be so soft. Or to taste like mint.
His kiss is demanding, yet… gentle.
Something pulses between us, electrifying and powerful. A stolen moment: a stolen kiss that lasted far longer than it should.
His hand comes up and his fingers slip behind my head, curling around the nape. He tilts my head and deepens the kiss. My brain is screaming at me to push him away, to be angry. And I am. Absolutely furious. But my fingers dig into his shoulders. I don’t pull him closer, but I don’t push him away either.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, and oh his kiss—
I gasp into his lips, and he groans. The deep rumble resonates through my entire body, all the way to my toes.
Colton Bennett is kissing me.
It’s wrong. Our fathers would probably disown us if they ever find out.
And I hate him.
So, why does it feel right? Why can’t I push him away? Why does his touch not disgust me and why… why does his embrace feel more comforting than Jasper’s?
He nips my lower lip and the gentle bite stings. I whimper again.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t like this, and I hate that I do.
I am a woman full of need, and Colton is here — giving me what I’ve been craving for so long. Human touch. To be kissed, to be desired.
Colton swallows my moan and my fingers dig deeper into his flesh. He grunts in response, but the bite of my nails only spurs him on more.
I’ve been kissed before. By Jasper. But it was nothing like this.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Somehow, a simple kiss…turns into more . Something unexpected.
My thighs part, and I straddle him, my knees on either side of his hips. Illicit desires course through my body, and I squeeze my eyes shut. His touch grows more demanding, his kiss less gentle. It’s deeper. Rougher.
I feel him everywhere . His heartbeat thuds erratically against my chest from our impulsive touches. His fingers brush against the underside of my breasts, sending a tingle through my body. His touch moves from my waist, to my hips and then he’s hiking my dress up. I can’t breathe…
His fingers graze my bare thigh and a shaky breath rattles from my chest. I don’t stop him; I’m incapable of doing so. I can’t. Because there’s a voice in my head and the devil on my shoulder telling me not to.
I feel his erection against me. He is hard and big, and oh my God—
There’s a familiar ache between my thighs. A dangerous longing. His touch shouldn’t excite me or arouse me. It shouldn’t thrill me in any way, but it does.
And that’s exactly why I allow myself to just feel. To feel him . His touch. His kisses. The lust that sparks off of him. I let it all feed into my own desires.
His lips never leave mine as he pushes his hand between my legs to find my soaked panties. A quiver runs down my body when he groans, feeling the wetness, my arousal, coating the inside of my thighs.
Colton breaks the kiss, his breath fanning against my bruised, swollen lips. My eyes flutter open, and I stare into his darker, lustful gaze. I am breathless and so is he.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
His thumb brushes against my swollen clit through my panties, and my body jerks in response. Pleasure zincs through me, like an electrifying wave. Holy shit!
“You’re dripping all over my fingers, Riley,” Colton breathes roughly.
Fuck.
He teasingly rubs his knuckles over my heated flesh, and I pant, feeling how the sweat slicks my skin, and my back arches in response to his touch.
I’ve never felt this way before.
Not with Jasper.
Not when I was touching myself.
Not when I was desperately trying to find my own release.
His mouth crashes against mine again, stealing another long kiss. And I let him. Colton swallows my moan, stealing my breath and replacing it with his own. Mint. I taste mint on him and it’s disgustingly addictive. My eyes slam shut.
He doesn’t touch my bare sex, doesn’t go beyond the barrier of my panties. The thin fabric sticks to my flesh like a second skin. He teases my opening and my core clenches. His caress is deliberately slow as he traces my wet folds through my panties. He seeks out my clit again and another moan spills from my lips.
Colton deepens the kiss, and I return it with just as much fervor.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
How does he know how to touch me like this? So expertly, as if he learned my body a long time ago: what I like, what I find pleasurable, which part of me is the most sensitive. It’s almost as if he is tracing me from memory.
I want to close my eyes and imagine Grayson instead. But I can’t.
I can’t because it’s Colton touching me. And I like it.
I can’t imagine Grayson because Colton ’s touch has my body on fire. I rock against him, my limbs moving on their own, chasing his touch like a wanton slut; chasing the release I’ve been so desperate for.
It feels wrong — because I hate Colton.
It’s wrong because the way he moves his fingers, circling around my hardened nub, using my own slick as lubricant, shouldn’t feel this good. I blame it on the fact I’ve been so touch-deprived for such a long time — lusting and craving for something I’ve only been reading in books. It always keeps me on edge, without a release. No matter how hard I try to pleasure myself — my own fingers, toys and my wild imagination, nothing works. Nothing has ever brought me so close to a release like Colton’s touch is doing to me right now.
So, this is the outcome. Of my hate for him and of my desperate need to be touched.
I cling to Colton’s shoulders, riding the wave of pleasure as he pulls them from my body.
His touch is made of an aphrodisiac, that’s my only explanation.
His hips jerks upward against mine and Colton groans into the kiss. The feral sound nudges me over the edge, where I’ve been hovering near my release for years.
My entire body trembles from the force of ecstasy that courses through me, that spills from his touch and into my bones. My hips buck against his expert fingers and our mouths fight a battle of lust and power. I rip my mouth away from his brutalizing kiss and bury my face into his neck. His rich, musky scent overpowers my senses. Ripples of pleasure tear through me and my climax hits me so hard, I feel myself sway as the world spins like crazy.
Thud.
The moment I come down from my high, from the rapture and bliss that came with my orgasm, I crumple in Colton’s arm.
My heart slams into my throat.
Adrenaline and shock bleed through me in desperate waves.
Did I just… have my first orgasm…in Colton Bennett’s arms?
My lungs cave in, within the fragile barrier of my rib cage.
For the longest time, I thought something was broken inside me, that something was wrong with my body. I thought something was wrong with me.
Every inch of my flesh tingles with strong awareness. Colton’s breath. His heartbeat. His fingers between my thighs. His other hand still cupping the back of my neck, holding me to him.
Thud.
My body is still shaking, but for a whole other reason now. The adrenaline of my orgasm is accompanied with tears. They are unstoppable and my chest hurts.
I hiccup back a sob, but the moment Colton tenderly cradles me in his arms, the dam breaks. Why…WHY?
Why him?
Why Colton Bennett? Why did he have to make me feel good? Why was it his touch that pushed me past the edge?
I’m not broken…
I’m not…
I don’t know why I’m crying and I don’t know why I can’t stop the tears from flowing. Neither of us speak, until my cries turn into sniffles. Until I’m drained, and my body is limp in his embrace.
Once my tears dry out, once the fog lifts and the haze of my pleasure disappears — I can finally think straight again. I can think beyond Colton’s touch and my stupidity.
He might have embraced me tenderly for a minute.
And, for a brief moment, I might have felt safe enough in his arms to allow myself to feel pleasure. But I will never forget the taunting grin on his face as he called my downfall his entertainment. It flashes behind my closed eyes, that cruel grin — his face that day and his heartless words that ridiculed me and my pain.
Colton Bennett will never be a safe option for my heart.